


Adorn Yourself Accordingly

by Agent25



Series: One Love for the Heart [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 03:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent25/pseuds/Agent25
Summary: As the former Winter Soldier, he had spent more than seventy years as a near mythical ghost, he had taken out world leaders, scientists, and activists without so much as blinking an eye, he had nearly killed that dumbass Captain America on more than one occasion (best friend or not, Steve was certifiably a dumbass) and now he was up against his greatest foe yet.Cufflinks.Fucking cufflinks.





	Adorn Yourself Accordingly

“Shit-shit-shit-shit. Fuck. Shit. _Fuckity fucking shit_!”

Things were not going well for one James Buchannan Barnes.

As the former Winter Soldier, he had spent more than seventy years as a near mythical ghost, he had taken out world leaders, scientists, and activists without so much as blinking an eye, he had nearly killed that dumbass Captain America on more than one occasion (best friend or not, Steve was certifiably a dumbass) and now he was up against his greatest foe yet.

Cufflinks.

Fucking _cufflinks._

He was once the world’s most feared assassin and he couldn’t even pin these goddamn cufflinks to the goddamn cuffs of his shirt. There was only one word for that: pathetic. If only his ma could see him now. She would be bemoaning the fact that her once sharply dressed son couldn’t even best a pair of metal, jewelry pins.

He grunted agitatedly as he once again came up short in attempting to insert the fixed back of the cufflink to his left-hand sleeve. He shook his head in frustration, nearly upending his artistically tousled man-bun. With a loud huff he stalked out of the bathroom and into the adjoining, spacious bedroom. It was a luxurious room that was modernly designed with varying hues of grey and a view to kill for as the New York skyline stretched before him, the Empire State Building a dazzling sight in the distance.

Bucky came to a halt at the floor to ceiling windows and stared out them, allowing the cityscape to calm him as he clenched his left hand, hearing it faintly whirl with every movement. Shuri’s newest model was truly a piece of art. It was exceptionally light, its movements effortless and dexterous, and had been crafted with care, unlike the abomination that Hydra had saddled him with. Bucky couldn’t help but admire the onyx appendage, watching as the golden inlays gleamed in the light of the hotel bedroom.

He sighed as he took stock of his appearance. He was still only half dressed in a sinfully expensive jet black suit that cost more than anything he had ever owned in his ridiculously long life. Its measurements were obscenely perfect and the trousers and dress shirt fit him like a second skin, showing off every line and cut of his impressive physique. He had succeeded in creating a respectable Windsor knot by himself and was now only missing the double breasted jacket and those blasted cufflinks to complete the slick black on black ensemble.

His eyes couldn’t help but be drawn back to the skyline as he put off trying to wrangle the cufflinks. If he tried his patience any further, he’d most likely end up crushing them with his enhanced strength. And wouldn’t that be embarrassing? He glanced around at his settings. He was currently situated in the Soho Grand Hotel in a near palatial suite that easily housed him, T’Challa, and the Dora Milaje who had accompanied them on their trip to the Big Apple.

And the reason for Bucky’s current distress against formal menswear?

That would be T’Challa’s fault. Because of him they were attending a highly lauded charity gala at the Met. They would be crammed together like sardines in a room filled to the brim with celebrities, politicians, business moguls, etc. Hell, even the Vice President would be in attendance. The last time he had been among so many influential and important people, he was pretty sure he had killed a couple of them.

If it were up to Bucky he wouldn’t be caught dead at this cesspool of nepotism and networking (even if it was arguably for a good cause). But T’Challa had firmly insisted that he attend. And as a king (and certifiable pain in Bucky’s ass), T’Challa was used to getting what he wanted. So Bucky was going and suffering through hours of false smiles, painful small talk, and weird hors d’oeuvres with foods that he couldn’t even pronounce, all because he was T’Challa’s plus one.

The price he had to pay as T’Challa’s…what? Boyfriend? Bucky wrinkled his nose distastefully at the thought. He was 80+ years too old to be anyone’s boyfriend. Partner? Hmm…better, but not perfect. Consort? Bucky’s heart flipped at the thought of _that._ He loved T’Challa. _God,_ did he love him. The Wakandan king was easily the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was the one miraculous highlight after the accursed decades enslaved as Hydra’s puppet. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that T’Challa was _it_ for him. But marriage…he didn’t know if he or Wakanda was ready for that quite yet.

The air around him shifted almost imperceptibly, just enough to jostle the former assassin out of his rambling thoughts as an achingly familiar presence silently crept up to his backside. Bucky exhaled softly, his body going instantly pliant as strong arms wrapped themselves around his waist, tugging him back into a treasured body. Bucky leaned back, trusting in his partner to take his weight as he allowed his head to lull back, inhaling the scents that were undeniably T’Challa. He breathed them in and was momentarily transported back to the vast forests of Wakanda where he loved to roam among the wildlife, he could almost smell the impending rain showers. If he concentrated he could faintly hear Shuri’s tinkering laughter as she teased her old brother, hear the clash of weapons as the Dora Milaje trained, see the colorful sights and citizens of the Golden City, and could nearly feel the softness of T’Challa’s sheets as Bucky lounged in his bed.

T’Challa smelled like home.

And when had home stopped being the Brooklyn of his memories and had become a lush country in Africa, at the side of a majestic king? Bucky couldn’t honestly say, but he wasn’t bothered by the shift in perception as his eyes blinked open.

He glanced down, watching entranced as dark skinned hands splayed themselves against his torso.

“James.” T’Challa’s chest rumbled pleasantly as he spoke softly into Bucky’s ear, his accented voice as soothing as chiming bells. “You are still not dressed.”

Bucky couldn’t help but snort as he tilted to his head to catch T’Challa’s eye.

“I’m having technical difficulties.”

He felt rather than heard T’Challa’s laughter as his warm breath caressed the side of his face. “Why am I not surprised?” the king murmured amusedly as Bucky shot him a dirty look and crossed his arms as he pouted petulantly.

“Hey! I take offense to that.”

“I’m sorry,” T’Challa spoke as he tightened his grip on Bucky’s hips and began turning the super-soldier to face him. “Have I dented your precious ego?”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he allowed the man to move him. “Alright, wise guy, listen – “

His words caught in his mouth as he took in the sight of the king. His mouth instantly went dry at just how _damn good_ he looked. T’Challa was resplendent in a fashionable dinner jacket with an intricately woven kente shawl draped over his broad shoulders. Bucky’s eyes slowly raked from bottom to top as he bit his lip contemplatively. They came to a stop of T’Challa’s face as the man smiled smugly, knowing exactly where Bucky’s thoughts had been drifting.

“Like what you see?” T’Challa teased easily.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky swaggered with bravado, a charming grin creeping up his face. “Do I ever.”

He leaned in, pressing himself up against T’Challa as the other man easily accepted his kiss. Bucky hummed softly to himself as they kissed slowly, breathing each other’s air in tandem. After what could have been an eternity, T’Challa pulled back from his lover, his eyes heavily lidded and breaths deep and languid.

“Do not think I will let you distract me,” T’Challa warned with a sharp finger point to Bucky’s chest that had the super-soldier rolling onto the balls of his feet. T’Challa stepped back, studying Bucky intently as the former assassin resisted to the urge to fidget. It always verged on the edge of just too much whenever T’Challa gave him his sole focus. The king had the uncanny ability to completely read Bucky’s soul every time he peered into his eyes. It was equal parts unnerving as it was exhilarating to be so completely stripped bare in front of another human being. T’Challa had true power over him with the way he could read him, but he would never use that against Bucky, never force an issue. That’s why Bucky trusted him and so freely gave himself over to his fellow warrior.

“What is the problem?” T’Challa inquired as Bucky dithered over whether or not to reveal his secret shame. On the one hand, T’Challa would have him fixed up in an instant, on the other, he would have to admit he had been undone by some goddamn cufflinks. T’Challa had a mean poker face, but there was no way he’d be able to hide his mirth from Bucky over something as simple as cufflinks.

But even if he tried to sidestep the issue, he knew T’Challa would get the truth out of him anyway. So with a dramatic sigh, Bucky flung an arm over his eyes as he proclaimed despondently.

“Cufflinks.”

Silence reigned for a long moment.

“Beg pardon?” T’Challa hesitatingly asked as Bucky continued refusing to look him in the eye.

“I can’t fasten my cufflinks,” Bucky muttered through clenched teeth. When the silence stretched on, he minutely lowered his arm to sneak a peek at his significant other. And just as he was suspected, T’Challa was struggling to keep an amused smile off his handsome face.

“See,” Bucky huffed, “I knew you would laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” T’Challa argued, though his chest was rumbling in a way that clearly told Bucky that he did indeed want to laugh, long and hard. He probably wanted to collapse on the ground with how funny he found the situation, but years as a prince was keeping his composure in check.  

T’Challa held out his hand, gesturing for Bucky to reciprocate in kind. The super-soldier sighed but handed over his arm, as T’Challa gently twisted it to get to work on the cufflink dangling from the shirt slit. T’Challa reached for it and froze in surprise when he got a good look at the adornment. Bucky raised a quizzical eyebrow before he realized what T’Challa was staring at.

Oh. Right.

His cufflinks.

His _panther_ cufflinks.

He had bought them the last time he had strolled idly through the open markets of Birnin Zana. They had caught his eye immediately and he had swooped them up, buying them from a vendor with a knowing grin. He had buried them in his sock drawer, waiting for the right time to surprise T’Challa with them. When it came to packing for the venture to the States, he had added them to his suitcase on a whim, not even really thinking it through until now.

The cufflinks were an inky black face of a dignified panther, with striking emerald eyes. They were an understated way of showing Bucky’s allegiance to both Wakanda and its king. It seemed only fair to do now that Bucky was an honorary citizen of the African nation. It was nice…belonging somewhere, to _someone_.

T’Challa looked up at him bemusedly and Bucky couldn’t help but grin back unabashedly as he easily shrugged.

“What? How else should I pay homage to my king?”

T’Challa huffed out a breathy laugh as he shook his head.

“These are ridiculous.” he stated, “As are you.”

But even as he said it, his fingers were running fondly over the cufflink as he easily inserted the fixed back and snapped it closed. He did the same to Bucky’s right hand as the super-soldier watched him, the only sounds in the silent room were their breathing. When that was completed, T’Challa reached for Bucky’s jacket which was strung across the bed. He held it up as Bucky slipped into it.

Now with Bucky’s enemy conquered it allowed his mind to wander to thoughts he had been forcibly putting off. The truth of the matter was, he could have handled the cufflinks. But his never-ending battle against them had been a fruitful distraction from things that Bucky desperately didn’t want to think about.

Such as the charity event.

An event he would be attending on T’Challa’s arm. Their very first international event as a couple. By tomorrow morning both of their faces would be splashed across newspapers, magazines, and gossip rags. They’d be the number one topic on the morning shows, hell they might even end up trending on Twitter. Everyone would be talking about them.

“You seem nervous.” T’Challa observed perceptively, his dark eyes locked onto Bucky’s pale, blue ones. Bucky couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Now that was the understatement of the century.  

Of course he was nervous. Sure, with the arrest of that whack job Zemo, he had been exonerated of the UN bombing in Vienna, but that didn’t mean the wider world was exactly fond of him. Yes, he had been declared a victim and the world’s longest serving POW and therefore not responsible for any of his crimes against humanity. But he knew that his continued existence troubled a great many people. People who were just waiting for him to snap. Waiting to shove him off to some impenetrable prison like the Raft where he could rot away the rest of his days.

That didn’t bother him. He knew his mind now, had complete control over it. He wasn’t likely to snap anytime soon. He was as safe as any other super-soldier, WWII man out of time.

What worried him was what they would say about T’Challa.

The king already had his fair share of naysayers across the globe due to how young and inexperienced he was. His first few years as monarch were critical for ensuring Wakanda’s place in the wider world.

Bucky didn’t want to mess that up for him by being…well, _himself._

So, yes, he was nervous. That didn’t mean he wanted T’Challa to know about it. The man had enough on his plate as it was without having to soothe Bucky’s rampant insecurities.

“Are you sure I have to go tonight?” Bucky wheedled as he finished buttoning up his jacket. “I’m more than happy to stay here, order room service, and watch one of those crappy _Rambo_ movies that Wilson loves on pay-per-view.”

“James.” T’Challa interjected and Bucky snapped his mouth shut, “Why do you not wish to attend tonight’s festivities?”

Ah, damn. T’Challa had caught him. Just like always. Bucky sighed as he looked down at his shiny new shoes, avoiding T’Challa’s probing gaze.

“You really think this is a good idea?” he asked quietly, “Bringing an assassin as your plus one?”

“Former assassin.” T’Challa corrected without missing a beat, “You do not kill anymore.”

“I just might after tonight.” Bucky muttered under his breath as he tugged his hands into his pockets.

“James – “

“They’re gonna judge you.”

There. It was out in the open now. Bucky steadfastly kept his head down and startled when a large, warm palm covered his cheek as T’Challa gently prodded him into meeting his eyes.

“So let them judge,” T’Challa calmly asserted. “I do not care about the world and what they think. I care about you.”

Warmth blossomed through Bucky’s chest as he leaned into T’Challa’s comforting touch and allowed his eyes to drift shut. Why couldn’t they just stay here in their own little bubble? He relaxed further as T’Challa pressed into his space, embracing him. Bucky exhaled as he pressed his face into T’Challa neck as the king leaned in, nuzzling gently.

_“Ndiyakuthanda.”_

He could feel the smile T’Challa was pressing into his skin as he found himself beaming in return.

“I love you too, kitty cat.”

They stayed pressed together, holding on tightly before T’Challa released him and stepped back, his eyes twinkling warmly.

“Come,” he nodded to the door where the Dora Milaje were awaiting them. “It is time for the world to see you as I do.”

Bucky still wasn’t sure about how tonight would go.

But with T’Challa at his side, he was willing to find out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky's outfit:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/40241685132/in/album-72157665778003888/)
> 
> Bucky's cufflinks:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/40241685202/in/album-72157665778003888/)
> 
> T'Challa's outfit:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/40241685042/in/album-72157665778003888/)


End file.
